Written on a whim (and because I secretly ship these two). Just a fragment.


Humming beneath her breath, Leliana moved about the small tent pitched outside the Haven Chantry. She inspected the latest reports from her agents, compiling the secrets and rumours which would need to be presented as soon as the Herald summoned the War Council.

The recruitment of the mages had gone well. She had known the outcome before the Herald had returned, so swift were her messengers. Of course, it helped that an old friend had also provided a credible first-hand report to her scouts.

A flicker of a smile brightened her face. Just over ten years and still her friendship with Alistair remained strong. She would see to it that one of her agents would ensure that he received all the information gathered on the Hero. Yet she would not be surprised to discover that Alistair knew exactly where his Queen had disappeared. They had a way, those two, of keeping their secrets—and she held them too dearly in her heart to interfere in such a bond.

A light touch of a hand grazed against the curve of her waist. She had heard the soft steps of her visitor even as they approached from beyond the tent, but she had not expected such a bold greeting.

"You forget yourself," she reprimanded in gentle tones, her attention still fixed upon her reports, "Commander."

"Surely, you cannot blame me?" Even so, his hand fell away. "Not after what Lavellan reported occurred at Redcliffe Castle."

"Or did not occur," Leliana corrected, a teasing smile on her lips as she turned to face Cullen. "And as I told the Herald, I would gladly do so again." She regarded him for a few moments before reaching out to brush some dust from the folds of his cloak, "as I know you would, if duty demanded it."

He was not in the mood for her frankness. "That's not the point," he retorted, catching a hold of her hand with an air of irritation. "Captured, tortured and then sacrificed." He shook his head—but it at least succeeded in shaking free his tongue. "This is not the future I would have for you," he confided in low tones, pressing her hand against the chest plate of his armour.

"If I had not done so, we would not be standing here now."

Sighing, Cullen loosened his grip upon her hand and stepped towards the entrance of the tent, turning an unseeing gaze towards Threnn who was dealing with requisition requests in her usual brusque way. "And for that I am grateful. But it does not mean that I must approve of it."

"I do not recall asking for your approval." The words sounded petulant, but Leliana knew that he would recognise the teasing lilt in which she spoke them.

He did. With a begrudging chuckle, Cullen shot her a look over his shoulder—a look which was no longer haunted by thoughts of what could have been. "I wouldn't know what to say if you did."

"I never would ask such a thing—and neither would you. We do what our duty demands of us, yes? It has always been this way, even since we first met at Kinloch Hold."

"Well-said," he acknowledged with a nod, turning to face her fully "Although I cannot say that I mind that our duties have brought us both to this place." His jaw tightened. "Though I might pray it was under different circumstances."

Apruptly, Leliana spun back to her reports strewn across her table, pressing her palms flat against the rough surface of the wood, her finger tips clenching against the grain of the wood. "There is little use in praying when the Maker turns a deaf ear upon us," she spat.

"Leliana—"

"No!" Even though she was unable to focus upon the words, she glared at the scrolls of vellum scattered in front of her. "He asks too much, Cullen! When even Justinia is not safe…"

"I have no answers for you. But despair will surely see us all to the Void."

His quiet confidence was a balm to her frayed faith. She took a deep breath as she spared a wan smile in his direction. "Our positions are reversed, I see. Was I not the one to once bolster your belief?"

"It is only temporary, Sister Nightingale," he inclined his head towards her in teasing deference. "Never fear; I still look to you for guidance."

Straightening, Leliana folded her arms across her chest as she closed her eyes, searching for the intuition by which she lived her life. "And when I have none to give?" she sighed.

Cullen only laughed beneath his breath. "I wait a little longer."

Despite herself, Leliana felt her lips begin to curve into a smile. She reopened her eyes as she relaxed her posture, regaining some of the serenity she had lost. Perhaps knowing the full extent of what could come to pass should they fail had taken its toll upon her. It had been some time since she had been so quick to despair.

"You are a patient man to linger so," she informed her companion, the previous harshness in her voice melting into warmth.

"That I am," he agreed, before bowing towards her by means of a farewell. So it was with all their conversations; they were each accustomed to the transient nature of their relationship. Theirs was not one for lingering looks or drawn-out farewells. It would not have suited either of them; not now, not after ten years.

Still, even as she turned back to her reports and Cullen made to leave the tent, Leliana spoke again—but softly, so only he would hear. "For what it is worth, Commander, I do not willingly seek a future where you are not near."

"That is worth more than you know, Sister."